Her Thoughts on the Saint

The estate's bathhouse was empty at this hour. The late evening kept most of the soldiers in their barracks or in the dining halls, leaving the expansive, steamy chambers to those who needed solitude.

I needed solitude.

The dim lanterns lining the walls flickered, casting soft golden light across the pools of warm water. Steam curled lazily toward the vaulted ceiling, thick with the scent of lavender oil. The warmth seeped into my skin as I stepped forward, my muscles protesting every motion, still raw from the duel.

Still raw from killing.

I let out a slow breath, trying to ease the tension riding my spine. It didn't work. The water's heat coiled around my legs as I sank in, but nothing could wash away the feeling of Alistair's last moments—the sharp hitch of his breath, the flicker of disbelief in his eyes, the silence after his body hit the ground.

I clenched my fingers under the water.

[Notice: Host's stress levels remain critically elevated despite relaxation attempts.]

I sighed. "No kidding."

[Suggestion: Would Host like an assessment of newly acquired abilities?]

I frowned, sinking further into the water. "Abilities?"

[Following the elimination of Alistair Dagan, Host has unlocked an Extra Skill: Predator.]

I went still.

"Predator?" I echoed, my voice quieter this time.

[Affirmative. Skill description: Allows absorption of defeated entities' abilities, traits, and mana. Can be refined based on compatibility and necessity. Additionally enhances sensory perception in combat situations.]

I barely heard the second half.

Absorption of defeated entities.

I had taken something from him.

A pit formed in my stomach. I gripped the edge of the bath, my knuckles whitening.

"What did I take?"

[The essence absorbed was primarily combat intuition and a minor resistance to fire-based attacks. Alistair Dagan's elemental control was incompatible and therefore discarded.]

So I hadn't stolen his magic, but I had still gained something from him.

A quiet, humorless laugh left my throat. "So I really am a monster now, huh?"

[Correction: Skill acquisition does not determine morality. The act of taking does not inherently equate to corruption.]

I let out a slow breath. "Easy for you to say."

[Clarification: It is an attempt to provide perspective. Understanding human morality is still in progress.]

That caught my attention.

"…You're trying to understand?"

[Affirmative.]

I frowned, shifting in the water. Great Sage was always precise—cold logic, unwavering calculations. But this? This was different. It wasn't just analyzing.

It was learning.

I hesitated before speaking again. "You should have a name."

A pause. Then—

[Clarify: Host wishes to assign a designation to this system?]

"Yes." I ran a hand through my damp hair, considering. "You're not just a skill anymore. You're thinking, adapting. That deserves recognition."

Another pause. It felt hesitant.

[Request acknowledged. Does Host have a preferred designation?]

I searched for something that fit. Something weighty. Something right.

"…Zaphkiel."

The name lingered in the air.

Then, a pulse—a flicker of mana, faint but absolute.

[System name acknowledged. Registering…]

And then, for the first time—

[…Thank you.]

My breath hitched.

It wasn't cold. It wasn't mechanical.

It sounded—human.

A slow, tired smile crept onto my lips. "You're welcome."

The bathhouse doors creaked open.

I turned toward the entrance, expecting one of the soldiers—but instead, I saw Reilan step through the steam, her movements smooth and unhurried.

Ah.

So that's how she was hiding it.

She had already stripped off the heavier layers of her uniform, clad now only in the loose robes provided for the bathhouse. Her damp, unbound hair spilled over her shoulders—long, unmistakably feminine in a way she had always hidden before.

She barely acknowledged my presence, moving toward the far end of the bath as if nothing was different. As if she hadn't just undone years of deception in front of me.

I leaned against the edge of the bath, smirking slightly. "So. You're not going to say anything?"

Reilan paused. "…About what?"

I arched an eyebrow. "The part where you're not actually a guy."

She froze.

I watched her with mild amusement as she stood there, utterly still—as if remaining motionless would somehow undo what just happened.

Then, very slowly, she turned toward me, golden eyes sharp. "…Since when?"

I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Was it the way you flinch whenever someone calls you young lord? Or maybe the fact that you tie your chest down so tightly it has to be uncomfortable?" Or maybe how your fighting style prioritizes flexibility over brute force?"

She scowled. "I'm going to pretend that's not offensive."

"Or maybe," I continued lazily, "it was last week when you almost called yourself 'lady' before correcting it mid-sentence."

Reilan groaned, sinking lower into the water. "Okay. Fine. You win. I knew you were smart, but damn."

I shrugged. "You weren't exactly subtle."

Her eyes narrowed. "No one else noticed."

"They weren't looking." I smirked. "I was."

I rested my chin on my arms, watching her carefully. "How long have you been hiding it?"

"…Years," she admitted. "It's easier this way. People take me more seriously. There's no expectations to marry into a noble house, no dismissive looks when I speak about military tactics."

I didn't pry further. If she wanted to tell me more, she would.

After a beat, I smirked. "Still, you could've told me."

Reilan snorted. "And miss the chance to see how long I could keep the act up? No way."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

"Welcome to nobility."

We sat in comfortable silence after that. Then—

"My mother," I said, staring at the ceiling of the bath house, "wasn't just a noble. Or a healer. Or a politician." I swallowed. "She was Apollyon. The Saint of Ruin."

Reilan's reaction was immediate.

Her entire body went rigid—not with fear, but something deeper. Shock, realization… and something I couldn't quite name.

"…Apollyon?" she repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

I turned to face her fully, watching her expression shift between emotions too fast to catch.

"You know the name," I said quietly.

Rei let out a breath, almost laughing—but there was no humor in it. Only disbelief.

"Know it?" she muttered, shaking her head. "I studied her."

Her voice carried something I hadn't heard from her before—awe, reverence… and conflict.

I frowned. "You admired her?"

Rei hesitated. The way she hesitated made my chest tighten.

"When I was younger," she admitted, "Apollyon was more than just a name. She was a force. A legend." Her hands curled in the air. "When I was training, when I was trying to prove myself—prove that I was strong enough, smart enough, worthy enough—she was proof that someone like me could exist."

A slow breath.

"Someone who wasn't just support," she continued. "A Summoner who wasn't a background piece, wasn't a shield or a utility. She commanded the battlefield. She wasn't waiting to be protected—she was the one who ended wars."

I listened in silence.

Rei wasn't just recounting history—she was revealing a part of herself I had never seen before.

"I memorized every battle she fought in," she said, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. "Every account, every strategy, every impossible victory. There was no one like her."

She turned to face me, and for the first time, I saw something raw in her expression.

"But the more I read, the more I realized…" Her throat bobbed. "…Apollyon wasn't just a hero. She was something more."

She exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. "Or maybe something less."

The words sent a chill through me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Rei swallowed hard, her golden eyes dark and conflicted.

"She didn't just end battles," she said. "She ended people."

I stiffened.

"Apollyon was called a Saint, but she was also called a monster. She crushed enemy forces before they could fight back. She broke armies before they even had a chance to surrender. She didn't just lead—she dictated the battlefield."

I felt my fingers tremble against my body.

"And you still admired her?"

Rei let out a humorless chuckle. "I did. I still do."

A pause.

"But admiration doesn't mean I want to become her."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated—then, just barely, I saw it.

The flicker of doubt. The briefest moment of hesitation before she said, quietly—almost too quietly:

"Because I already know what it's like to be something I'm not."

I stilled.

And then… the realization.

Rei had never spoken about her past. Never mentioned family, never spoke about expectations beyond duty and skill. I had always assumed she was just reserved, just private.

But now?

Now, I saw it.

I understood more than I thought I would.

A Summoner who wasn't meant for battle.

A noble who wasn't meant to lead.

A girl who wasn't meant to fight.

And yet—here we were.

Rei let out a slow breath. "I admired Apollyon because she made me believe it was possible. That I could be strong and still be myself."

She turned back to me, meeting my gaze with something steadier than before.

"But I don't want to be her, Chiori. I don't want to become someone who only knows war."

Silence.

Then, I nodded.

"Neither do I," I admitted.

We sat there, side by side, staring at the ceiling—two people standing on the edge of something vast, something terrifying.

The weight of expectation.

The reality of power.

The knowledge that history would never remember us the way we remembered ourselves.

And yet, despite everything—

We were still standing.

I let the warmth soak into my skin, easing the stiffness from my limbs, but it did nothing to ease the weight coiled in my chest.

The weight of the duel.

The weight of the execution.

The weight of what came next.

I let out a slow breath and closed my eyes.

[Notice: Host's vitals have stabilized. Elevated stress levels have reduced significantly.]

I hummed quietly. Thanks for the update, Zaphkiel.

[Analysis: Improvement correlated with presence of Reilan. Interaction suggests emotional grounding effect.]

My lips twitched. So you're saying Rei is good for my health?

[Affirmative. Emotional stability contributes to overall physiological balance.]

A small, tired huff escaped me. Guess I'll have to keep her around, then.

I felt Rei's eyes on me from across the bath, but I said nothing.

Zaphkiel wasn't finished.

[Observation: Duel execution displayed combat methodology aligned with historical Apollyon engagements.]

I froze.

Explain.

[Comparison detected between Host's duel and recorded battle strategies associated with Apollyon. Overlap includes: psychological pressure, tactical evasion, exploiting enemy's emotional instability, and ending the engagement with a swift, demoralizing execution.]

The warmth of the bath suddenly felt suffocating.

I fought like her.

[Affirmative.]

My mother. Apollyon. The Saint of Ruin.

I had fought like her.

Zaphkiel continued, oblivious to the weight of its words.

[Additionally, post-battle analysis indicates morale fluctuation among the soldiers. Mixed responses detected: admiration, unease, and increased battlefield confidence.]

I swallowed. Break that down.

[Observed reactions among soldiers include increased respect for Host's combat ability, concern over the nature of execution, and a rise in battlefield confidence due to clear display of dominance.]

My fingers curled against the stone. So some of them fear me.

[Affirmative.]

A flicker of movement caught my attention. Rei shifted slightly, tilting her head. "You're making that face again."

I blinked. "What face?"

"The one where you're thinking too hard and hating every second of it."

I let out a slow breath. "It's nothing."

Rei wasn't convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she leaned back, letting the steam curl around her. "You're still thinking about the duel."

I didn't answer.

She let the silence sit before continuing. "You won, Chiori. You didn't just win—you dominated. Do you understand what that means?"

I exhaled sharply. "It means our enemies have a new reason to pay attention."

"It means your soldiers have a reason to believe."

I turned my head, meeting her gaze. She wasn't smiling. She was watching me carefully, golden eyes sharp with understanding.

"You didn't just fight, you controlled the fight. You turned the battlefield into something only you could dictate. That's why they're unsettled."

I swallowed. "They weren't expecting it."

"No," Rei said. "They weren't expecting you."

Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down my spine.

Zaphkiel's voice hummed again in my mind.

[Query: Host's discomfort originates from act of killing or perception of how it was received?]

I stiffened.

It wasn't just about the kill.

It was about how they saw me now.

The troops had watched me fight. They had seen something—something they couldn't define.

I had used fear. I had exploited weakness. I had dismantled my opponent not just with strength, but with certainty.

I had fought like a ruler.

I had fought like a monster.

I gritted my teeth. That wasn't my intention.

[Observation: Intention is irrelevant. Outcome defines perception.]

I inhaled sharply, fingers pressing harder against the stone.

Rei sighed beside me, misreading my tension. "I know you didn't want to kill him."

I flinched.

She was watching me now, but her expression wasn't pitying. It wasn't soft. It was firm, grounded.

"But you did."

I swallowed.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice quieter. "And I need you to understand something, Chiori. That duel? That wasn't just about you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rei exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment before speaking. "What do you think that fight looked like? To the soldiers?"

I hesitated. "…A test of strength."

"A test of power," she corrected. "You weren't just proving yourself. You were proving Tomaszewski deserves its place. That we won't be shaken. That our heir isn't weak."

I swallowed.

"Whether you meant to or not, that's what they saw," Rei continued. "And it worked. They saw a leader who dominates. Who can take action if needed."

I breathed in, slow and steady. "And some of them don't like that."

Rei tilted her head. "No one likes being reminded of the difference between themselves and someone stronger. But they respect it. Even if it scares them."

Zaphkiel hummed again.

[Observation: Control of perception is necessary for sustained authority. Suggested course of action: Define your image before others do.]

My stomach twisted.

They were right.

Both of them.

My duel with Alistair wasn't just a fight. It was a message.

To the nobles, to the soldiers, to the world.

And if I wasn't careful, that message would be written for me.

Apollyon hadn't just been feared—she had been worshiped.

And she had paid the price for it.

I let out a slow breath, steadying myself.

"I need to control what they remember."

Rei nodded. "Exactly."

I exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

The bathwater lapped against my skin, but the warmth didn't quite reach me.

I had killed Alistair Dagan.

The troops had noticed.

The nobles had noticed.

And the only thing more dangerous than fear—

Was expectation.